


Naughty Princess.

by dimplesmcflirt



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fingering, Modern AU, Oral Sex, Power Exchange, Teacher Bellamy, dirty talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-30
Updated: 2015-04-30
Packaged: 2018-03-26 10:20:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3847267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dimplesmcflirt/pseuds/dimplesmcflirt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As she comes back to her hometown a changed woman, Clarke Griffin runs into her former AP World History Professor, Bellamy Blake, a man who really got under her skin. It's been five years, and both of them have changed plenty since her senior year of high school, and his first year teaching. Whatever charged their dynamic gives way to sexual tension, as they talk easily and make some confessions to each other. </p><p>Or the one where Bellamy takes charge and is responsible for a pretty impressive orgasm count.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Naughty Princess.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bispaceprincess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bispaceprincess/gifts).



> This is the culmination of my thirst for teacher!Bellamy, an intense message exchange with Lyndsay that involved a lot of CAPS LOCK and my need to be a little strong handed. I hope you guys enjoy.

Four years, seven months and twelve days. That’s how long Clarke has been away from her hometown. First it was college, pre-med, then there was dropping out of college, avoiding her mother like the plague, and finally there had been going back-packing through Europe. Over fifteen months abroad, mapping her way through the old country. Clarke Griffin would not recognize the person she was those four years, seven months and twelve days ago.

She’s rented herself a room in one of the good hotels in town, not the nicest or second best, but not one of the sleazy motels as well, she would have though, if she had to, just to avoid actually habiting the same space as her mother. Clarke knows she’s going to have to face Abby, but that doesn’t mean she has to sleep under the same roof as her.

Clarke makes her choices wisely, the first time she comes over to the Griffin property she knows her mom won’t be home, and she just wants to have a look at the house with some privacy. It isn’t that she’s too attached to anything in the house in particular, but she misses her old room, and the things she’s left behind, maybe not as much as she did a couple of years before, but still.

She basically ignores the rest of the house so she can go to her room, it has so many old sketch books and her favorite teddy bear, the one her father gave her, is lying on top of the bed. It’s no surprise her mother keeps the room tidy, or better saying, has it kept tidy, but it’s still a blow to see the plush toy there. She takes it with her when she leaves, even if she knows that means her mother will know she was there. The maid is going to probably tell her anyway, Clarke justifies to herself.

In her cathartic process, she goes to the school next. Even though she’s sure Marcus will be there, she can still avoid him if she chooses to, but she’s not sure she will, maybe she should talk to him before talking to her mother. He’s definitely more straight forward, and not as disappointed in her. Clarke thinks it’s because he doesn’t feel he’s entitled to disappointment when it comes to her, and she’s thankful for it.

It’s been two years but she’s not sure if her mother has forgiven her for dropping out of med-school, then again them Griffin girls can hold a grudge like no one’s business. She still partially blames her mother for her father’s death, even though she knew both things had wildly different proportions she took the trait from Abby’s side of the family.   

Twenty minutes pass while she stares at the imposing building, tradition written in its every brick, corner, classroom. Clarke spent four years at Ark Academy, being pristine, ruthless and snarkier than any other teenager at the time, which in itself should have warranted her an award. A couple of girls stood next to a mini cooper not too far from her, cutting class while chewing gum like they were too cool for the place, Clarke had gone to school with plenty of girls like that, some things never change.

“Did you see what he was wearing today? Kill me now with that vest. It’s like it’s glued to him.” Clarke listens to tidbits of their conversation as much as she isn’t paying attention, because there by no means bothering to be quiet about it. “And when he pushed his sleeves up to his elbows. I’ve never wanted to lick a forearm so bad.”

“I’d let him fuck me right over his desk, to be honest. Probably beg him to do it. Please Mr. Blake, take me.” Another girl adds and Clarke frowns at that, Mr. Blake? Were they talking about Bellamy Blake? “I swear to God the only reason I do well in this class is to see that proud smirk on his lips as he passes me my tests, I add a good girl in my head, because how could I not?”  

Blanching Clarke can feel her stomach twisting uncomfortably, and she pulls away from the group of incredibly inappropriate teenage girls before she ends up throwing up at their feet, and they look at her disgusted and ask her if she’s pregnant or something. AS IF. This wasn’t the first time she’s been exposed with this kind of behavior, back in her school days, plenty of girls were coming over to school without any underwear on because Mr. Blake gave them heat flashes.

Clarke’s senior year had been his first year teaching at the school, but she heard of Bellamy Blake, everyone heard about Bellamy Blake. Every year the school granted a full ride scholarship in a competition designed by the board since the school’s conception that tested both wit and physicality. It was a weekend event and anyone could apply, though the people who did, didn’t usually need the money. It was mostly an affair of teenage boys and girls who had been bred and prepared for this since middle school, and were competing for the sake of family honor.

Twenty years without an outsider going so much so as past the first round, four decades before one had been a strong contender, and half a century since the last one had won the scholarship. All to come crashing down in a blaze with Bellamy Blake. The boy came out of nowhere and outwitted the pompous privileged little kids as if he were taking candy from a baby, and absolutely dominated the sports category. There was no stopping him. He was in the papers, he became a school legend, and soon enough he was coming back with a shiny new PhD in Ancient history and a teaching position.

At twenty six he was the youngest teacher that had ever been known to assume a position at the Academy, maybe it was just a twist of fate that Mr. Frederickson was retiring from his AP World History class, maybe it was just sheer dumb luck that he was the golden boy, but there she was in her senior year, being taught by the legend, Bellamy Blake.

Said golden boy turned out to be the bane of her existence soon enough, he had objectively attractive sure, and charming as a teacher obviously invested in his topic of lecture, particularly when it came to more ancient civilizations. But he had also been arrogant, stubborn and overly aggressive sometimes, clearly defensive as a person and not very approachable, all things Clarke didn’t appreciate in a professor. The fact that he always seemed to mark her grades down for the most preposterous reasons didn’t help his case either. It was fair to say she couldn’t stand him, and she was not dropping her panties for him any time soon.

To see that this was still happening five years later was upsetting to say the least, but she wasn’t sure what she was expecting since girls were no different back when she was there, maybe more coy about their conversations, but she didn’t think that was necessarily a good thing. What really makes her sick, and always had, is the odds of most of these girls being minors. She gets the allure of the concept of the professor, she’d taken some art classes during her time in Rome and gotten pretty involved with her instructor, a woman named Lexa. She had also been twenty fucking two at the time, not seventeen.

Seventeen year old Clarke would have never considered it, she actively frowned at it, as she remembered. They were supposed to be focusing on SAT scores, and college applications, personal statements, interviews, deciding what to major on, not decide which teacher is the most fuck worthy. Though through an assessment of over 50 year olds it wasn’t that hard a competition if there ever was one.

Walking down the halls helps clear her mind, even when she sees pictures of him in some of the trophy cases, there’s some of her as too, and Wells, their debate team trophy. There’s some of her in the lacrosse team as well, but she doesn’t stay to long to observe, she wants to get this conversation with Marcus out of the way as soon as she can. But as luck would have it, of course there’s someone in his office already when she gets there, and of course that someone is Bellamy Blake.

He’s not that much different than he was five years ago, he’s gotten a little broader maybe, he has a beard, though it’s neat and trimmed, and along with the addition of the thick framed reading glasses it makes him look a bit more distinguished. He’s matured in his style, though he still wears jeans, his dress shirt is more polished and he’s wearing a waistcoat, unbuttoned, his sleeves pushed up to the elbows and she swears she sees a tattoo for a split second but doesn’t think much of it.

“Clarke. Hello, I… Was I expecting you?” Marcus Kane is the one who breaks the silence as he shows up at the door right after Bellamy, and makes her tear her eyes away from her former professor, who seems to have his eyes trained on her just as well.

“No, I’m sorry to drop in unannounced, I was wondering if you had a minute?” He’s silently questioning if she’s seen her mother yet, and she attempts to reply in the same fashion that she hasn’t, he understands. “I can wait, if this is a bad time.”

“Mr. Blake and I have just finished up here, I’ll have someone bring over some lunch, have you eaten?” She shakes her head, before he turns to his secretary and her eyes move back to Bellamy, who still hasn’t taken his from her, his expression intriguing.

“Mr. Blake.” She nods at him, and that seems to bring his eyes at least back to hers, as she holds his gaze, arching an eyebrow a bit, a shadow of a smirk graces his lips. “Nice to see you’re not wearing leather jackets to work anymore.” She teases and the smirk is definitely not just a shadow anymore.

“Ms. Griffin.” He crowds closer as Marcus is still talking to his secretary, deciding on what to have for lunch, probably. “Nice to see you seem to have let your hair down, I hope it’s not just an impression.” He winks and she can barely hold back a snort, what she can’t hold back is the blush that creeps up her cheeks, she’s changed and he could see it just by looking at her. Maybe it’s that obvious.

 

 

The moment Bellamy steps out of Kane’s office to be greeted by an all too familiar face it’s like something in the universe shifts, because at the same time he’s sure he’s looking at Clarke Griffin, he can’t possibly be looking at Clarke Griffin. Bellamy doesn’t like to be confused, he doesn’t like things to be uncertain, but this is definitely one of those things.

Never, in his now five years of teaching at the Ark has he had a student as infuriatingly stubborn and persistent as Clarke Griffin, he can complain about it all day, but truth is, he will take a girl like her over the girls making inappropriate comments at him any day. That’s what he’s there to complain about with Kane, he only shows him some of the less aggressive notes because when it comes to it, he doesn’t want to get these girls in too much trouble.

It’s not that he wants anyone suspended or expelled, he just doesn’t want to feel like they’re paying attention to him for all the wrong reasons, though that is the least of it, because at least people’s grades have improved all around since he’s started teaching, not just the girls.

It’s more about how they find ways to pull up their skirts higher, or pop open a couple of buttons, or ask him to come over just for the pretense to touch him, or come over to his desk and hold on to it in a way he knows it’s meant to press their breasts together. He doesn’t go into detail, because he knows it could sound creepy if he did as well, he doesn’t make a point to notice these things because he’s interested. He just notices these things because these girls are his sisters age and they’re acting like women and trying to get a rise out of him, and they do. They get him really fucking mad.

Kane is sympathetic at best, but as usual he urges Bellamy to find a solution on his own. Reasons why he grew a beard and started using his glasses, reasons he started dressing a bit more maturely. Because truly he just wants these girls to realize how much older than them he is, and how inappropriate this is, he’s only grown more irritated by it as the years go by. At first it made him feel uncomfortable and flustered, maybe the least bit flattered, but high school hadn’t seemed that long ago, so that came into lay as well. He was thirty one now, not even in his twenties, and these girls were all minors. WHAT. WERE. THEY. THINKING?

Amidst his frustration enters Clarke Griffin, her hair a complete contrast from the perfectly kept braids, or styles it was put in when he was her professor, but long, loose and full, cascading in waves past her shoulders. Skinny jeans instead of the plaid skirt, hers that was most definitely always firm at knee length. A pair of sturdy combat boots instead of the preppy looking black and white standard uniform shoes. A white long sleeved shirt with a deep v that made him see parts of her he surely had never seen before, and a red leather jacket. Her make up reminds him of the 40’s all winged eyeliner and red lipstick, and holy hell he really doesn’t recognize the woman standing in front of him. She looks like she can take him out and eat him up, while making him enjoy every minute of it, he’s out of his depth.

The banter they exchange doesn’t feel aggressive for the first time in his life as well, or the aggression has shifted, charged by something else, maybe she’s looking at him a different way now too? Maybe he’s not exactly the same man he was five years ago, but she’s definitely not the same girl and that changes everything. He has to leave if he wants to get lunch soon, but all the way through it he’s plagued by thoughts of Clarke Griffin and what could have changed.

The school day goes on without much of a hitch after that though, he has to stay a little longer because he’s on rotation to stay and sit in on detention, but he takes the time to grade some papers, and has the little rascals write an essay on the Roman Empire if they want extra credit. He swaps some texts with Octavia as she’s headed home after practice, and promises to get some dinner on his way, but she says she’s got a math test on Monday and she’s going to Jasper’s so she can study with him and Monty. They’ll drive her over after dinner.

He’s relieved for once, not that he doesn’t want to see his sister, but that means he can go to a bar and relax a little. It’s Friday night and he’s sure he can round up some of his friends to join him, he texts Miller first and sees if he’s got a shift at the Dropship, and after he confirms it, he sends Raven and Wick a text. As much as they’re a couple, going out with them never makes him feel like a third wheel, and they’re awfully fun drinking companions.

Looking down at his clothes, he decides to go home and change because Raven would probably talk to him in a shit British accent all night if he showed up there wearing a waistcoat, he was sure he had a sweater or a jacket in his car, but he might have to go home anyway, a shower was always nice. Once he’s spent the two extra hours taking care of the breakfast club, he’s getting up and collecting essays, wishing them all a great weekend, and getting the fuck out of there as soon as he can. He wishes he could say he doesn’t get paid enough for this shit, but the salary at the Academy is almost indecent, it had to match it’s tuition after all.

It takes a surprisingly little amount of time to get home once he gets to his car, settles his suitcase on his coffee table and starts stripping without a second thought. He takes a warm bath, and relaxes, it’s starting to get cold outside, it’s late autumn and if he wants to take his bike to the bar he might need a couple layers, he feels more comfortable with it once he’s had a couple of drinks though, the fresh air makes him sharper.

He puts on a pair of jeans, some converses, throws a sweater over a plaid button up and grabs his leather jacket, his hair is still wet, and it’ll probably be a mess when he gets to the bar but he couldn’t care less, it’s past 7PM on a Friday night and his friends are probably there already. Raven and Wick close up shop at 5PM and live right across the street from the bar, even if Wick spends twenty minutes making his hair look the right kind of messy and the two of them spend another half an hour making it look the wrong kind of messy, they should be there by now.

Bellamy rushes down to his garage and eyes his motorcycle lovingly for a second, his princess, he calls her, because of his mom who’d been called Aurora, which was Sleeping Beauty’s actual name. He hops on, and in another fifteen minutes of wind rushing through his face and hair, and the feeling of complete freedom he’s pulling up at the bar, and parking upfront.

Just like he expects, Raven and Wick are sitting at the bar, chatting with Miller who’s behind it. Happy hour is pretty busy and he can’t afford to pay them that many attention, so they find themselves one of the last empty booths and settle down, he’ll join them as soon as he gets his break. They’re starting off with some whisky, and Raven is complaining about this piece of shit car she’s got to fix, while Kyle just looks at him in a way that says she’s totally got it.

They talk about his bike a little bit, Raven’s dying to ride it again, and they discuss that trip they’ve always wanted to make, coast to coast. He always tells him they can, just wait until he’s sent Octavia off to college, Raven never believes him, says he’ll be too miserable after that. He just smirks, because Wick plans on marrying Raven whenever they get to the beach, he’s going to settle the little velvet box over the seat of her bike and Miller’s already gotten ordained for it online. She’s probably going to punch them all.

They’re all laughing when she steps into the bar, in the same get up she was wearing at school, that red leather jacket bringing out the flush in her cheeks, and the stain of the lipstick on her lips. Raven being the bloodhound that she is immediately catches the shift in his demeanor and whips her head in the direction his eyes have settled, before she wolf whistles.

“Damn, who’s Marilyn Monroe over there Bell, do you know her?” His friend asks before he can even pretend he wasn’t looking at Clarke and he groans, finishing his whisky.

“I guess you could say I used to.” He says cryptically, not just because he’s trying to be vague and shit, but because he really doesn’t know how to express his views on this newfound Clarke.

“You mean to tell me you used to hit that, or what lover boy?” But obviously, Raven insists, because it’s Raven.

“Can you blame him if he did? I mean, the girl’s hot.” Wick adds, and he swears to god he’s never going to understand their relationship. “And if you haven’t, do you mind if we do?” He groans again, he’s REALLY NEVER GOING TO UNDERSTAND THEIR RELATIONSHIP.

“She was one of my students, okay? Can we not talk about this?” But he knows as soon as he asks it they’re going to have to, because his voice is apparently unmistakable and Raven’s already waving at Clarke the minute Wick suggests the threesome, so there’s no way she doesn’t see them.

“Well, she’s old enough to be in a bar, she’s not off limits then.” Raven says simply, and smiles as the girl starts walking over to them, and Bellamy starts shifting a bit uncomfortably in his seat, he needs another drink.

“Hello pretty lady, I hear you know my friend Bellamy over here. I’m Kyle, this gorgeous creature by my side is the love of my life, Raven Reyes, and you must be?” Wick smirks easily, and Bellamy rolls his eyes at him, because really, who the fuck introduces himself like that.

“Hi, I’m Clarke. Clarke Griffin.” She stretches her hand and shakes his hand firmly, and Bellamy might be a little too fixated on how soft her skin looks. “And gorgeous indeed, you’re a lucky man, Kyle.” She adds, and he’s hiding the fact that he’s chocking behind a cough. “Bellamy started teaching during my senior year, we crossed paths, bumped heads, disagreed on grades.”

“Well, people change a lot in five years.” Bellamy speaks up before anyone says anything else and Clarke’s eyes finally settle on him, she eyes in, and smirks after a while with a slight nod of her head.

“They sure do. I see you’ve brought back an old favorite.” She gestures towards the leather jacket at his side, he’s shaken it off after his first drink, pushed his sleeves up to his elbows again.

“Old habits die hard.” He smirks back, but picks up the jacket so she can slip into the booth if she wants to. She does.

“Wait, did you say Clarke Griffin? As in, your mother is Abby Griffin?” Raven suddenly changes the subject and it’s Clarke turn to groan, eyes closing in a deep sigh as she nods her agreement.

“Yes, the one and only Doctor Griffin is my mother.” There’s a little resentment in her voice and Bellamy frowns as he notices it, Clarke only ever spoke of her mother fondly when she had been his student, he wonders what happened, but doesn’t spare it too much thought, because Raven is going on.

“Man, if it weren’t for you mother, I swear I wouldn’t be able to walk right now.” She prattles on, oblivious to the discomfort she might be causing Clarke, brilliant as she is, Raven could be quite clueless when it came to human interaction. Machines were a lot simpler, she’d say. “She saved my life.”

“She has a tendency of doing that for some people.” Clarke chuckles, but her smile is forced and it doesn’t really meets her eyes, and for once Bellamy thinks Raven has caught on to that.

“So, I need another drink, anyone?” Bellamy interrupts before ever finding out if she really has though, not willing to give her a chance.

“You got the last round, this one’s on me.” Wick agrees, as he gets up to leave the booth. “What will it be for you, Princess?” He turns to Clarke and his smirk in Bellamy’s direction is discreet but he catches it.

“A jack and coke, please. I can get the next one, too.” Clarke adds, as she settles down into the booth properly after shaking off her red jacket, he’s a little embarrassed to say he might have stared a little too much at her breasts while she was doing it, but then again, he has no idea how he could not. He’s pretty sure Raven was doing the same. “You know, it’s not polite to stare, right guys?” That confirms his suspicion.

“Sorry, well… You just… How can I put it nicely? Right, I won’t, it’s me. You have a really nice rack.” His friend puts bluntly and he has to disguise another choke by faking a cough. “And you’re not fooling anyone, Bell, cut the crap.”

“I could say this is a really good push up bra, which it is, but I’m doing a lot of the work on my own, and I’m basically busting out of it, it doesn’t really fit the same as when I got it.” Clarke laughs, visibly a lot more comfortable talking about her assets than she was talking about her mother. Really, he couldn’t stress how different this Clarke Griffin was from the girl who had been his student. “I just got back from Europe, Paris was where I was last and you just don’t lose weight in Paris. Then again, you don’t lose weight in Italy or much anywhere in Europe anyway.”

“I could tell you filled out a bit.” The words are out of his mouth before he can say anything, and he hasn’t even had enough to drink yet to justify him saying it, or to keep him from feeling mortified by it, so he’s pretty much sure he’s the color of her lips now, ears burning. “Fuck, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Why? Are you calling me fat?” Clarke teases so brightly, and she’s smiling at the Cheshire cat, and for a second he wonders if it’s at his discomfort, but he doesn’t need to wonder much to know that it is.

“No! I mean, it’s a compliment.” Bellamy hides his face in his hands, taking a deep breath, shaking his head slowly. “They knew what was up in the Renascence and…” He trails off then, because Raven is arching an eyebrow at him, amused. “I mean, fuck, you’re people, you’ve got feelings, your bodies aren’t made for my consumption, just… Where the fuck is Wick with the drinks when I need one?”

“Calm down Bellamy, you’ll work yourself into a heart attack at that rate, you’re barely thirty.” Raven’s smirking at him again, her amusement is still evident on her face. “Nice save though… What the nerd means is you look hot, and he’s right.”

“It’s not just that.” He sighs, still feeling wickedly inappropriate and not nearly as inebriated as he needed to be for that. “You look different, but you would… People change a lot in five years, but you look like you’ve gone through a major breakthrough… You look confident, happier, relaxed. Like you’re not fighting for your life anymore. Like you’re not thinking about what you might have to prove to anyone but yourself.”

“I was trying to prove a lot to a lot of people but myself back then.” Clarke finally says, and she’s looking straight at him none of them really pay any mind that Wick is finally coming back with their drinks. “I think you knew that, then.” She adds, and her eyes drop, so they finally notice their drinks in front of them.

“We often notice our own flaws in other people.” Bellamy tells her as he reaches for his drink, and watches her do the same. “I might have been a little too hard on you because of it.” He offers and winks, as they touch their glasses together in a toast, before turning to the other two.

“To reconnecting with old friends then?” Wick asks as he holds his glass up as well.

“And making new ones.” Clarke smiles, and they all sip at their drinks happily then.

They talk easily after that then, Clarke tells them about dropping out of pre-med, and Bellamy smirks telling her he could see that from a mile away. He asks her is she’s been focusing on her art, and is happy to learn that she has, he comments on how good she is, and asks to see more, he’s only ever seen the things she used to do years ago, he’s interested to see how her style developed. She’s reminded he minored in art history.

She spends about an hour talking about Europe, that’s when Miller joins them, and since he spent a while overseas when his dad was in the military they trade stories. Bellamy has also been to England, France and Italy, and they talk about museums, architecture, literature, paintings and sculptures.

Miller tells her he met Bellamy at the Ark, so they talk a little bit about his golden boy status and going to school there, they’ve all had teachers that have taught them all. They pick on Bellamy for being such a massive dork who got his PhD at twenty six and works way too hard, and prefers hanging out with his teenage sister because he’s a loser. He amends that he’s taking care of her, and that she’s definitely cooler than any of them.

They all talk about space, because they are huge nerds, and Raven wanted to be an astronaut when she was little, she couldn’t due to a physical condition. Still, they talked about it, planets and stars, constellations, galaxies and parallel universes. Wick says he’s going to build a rocket out of scrap metal so he can take his lady for a spacewalk and Raven rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling fondly as he says that.  

 When Miller leaves to go back to work, Clarke asks how he met Wick and Raven, and that’s how his bike comes into the story. They’re a couple of rounds of drinks in, and they’ve all switched to beer after Clarke bought them another round of hard liquor, so he got a silly smile on his face as he thinks about his princess. It was a vintage, 1949, Indian 249 Super Scout, and he only found out about it in his mother’s will, he hadn’t even known she had a will.

“It is the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever touched, it needed restoration, obviously, but I managed to get the parts, and let’s just say Bellamy owes me his firstborn. He also made me add an extra seat because of Octavia, which I didn’t want to do because that’s basically blasphemy but you just don’t deny Octavia stuff.” Raven is going on about it by the time he’s started listening to the conversation again, and he blushes a bit, but smirks as he notices Clarke is paying a lot of attention to his friend going on about his bike.

“If I remember correctly just the joy of working on such a national treasure and then actually taking it for a handful of spins was payment enough, Reyes.” He turns to Raven, smirking widely. “And I don’t forget things.”

“Your bike sounds like an orgasm.” Clarke pipes up before Raven can come up with some snarky reply and he snorts, because he’s now heard Clarke Griffin talk about her tits and say the word orgasm, and those are two things he never thought he’d see her do. She’s touching his arm then, and licking her lips, and he stops moving his beer bottle up to his lips half way through. “Can you take me for a ride?” If she meant it as a double entendre or not is on the forefront of his mind, but then again she seems really excited about the bike, he turns to his friends.

“We should be finishing up here anyway. Maybe a bottle of water before you drive, champ?” Wick suggests, and he nods his agreement, Raven takes the excuse to recruit Clarke to go to the bathroom with her.  “So… Are you going to get your stoichiometry on with?” He nods his head in the direction they just left, and Bellamy rolls his eyes at the question, and shrugs. “Isn’t it weird, because she was your student?”

“Oh, now you ask? After we’ve had drinks and you guys are basically teasing us all night?” Bellamy snaps a bit, but apologizes, scratching the back of his neck. “It’s different… I suppose it’s complicated, but she’s so different, and it was so long ago… She could probably put on her uniform and I wouldn’t put her and the girl I gave classes to together, I guess it would have been weird if she still were clearly that person, but still… She’s not, and she’s definitely not seventeen.”

“Still, girls in their early twenties are pretty impressionable.” He adds cautiously, to which Bellamy nods his agreement. “But that doesn’t seem the case… She holds her own, or she has, you’re not pushing for it, or it doesn’t seem so, if anything she’s being a lot forward about it than you are… Sometimes it’s not about age, it’s about maturity and sexual experience, and she might have you beat there you big eunuch.” 

   
  


As she follows Raven to the bathroom she wonders if she’s being a little too forward with Bellamy, she’s definitely flirted with him plenty during the night, sly touches and suggestive smirks, he hasn’t seemed opposed to any of it, but what if he was creeped out by the thought that he used to be her teacher? Clarke was surprised enough that she had wanted to but since their run in at Kane’s office she has barely been able to stop thinking about the way he had stared at her, and the comment he had placed.

She had come to the bar just for a little pick me up, a couple of drinks before she planned to go back to the hotel, she certainly hadn’t thought she’d run in to him there. But that had been almost three hours ago, and she had spent a lot of that time understanding more and more why so many of his students were into him, first she had to admit that he was more than just objectively attractive, as she had found when she was seventeen. Though she also found that admitting that now didn’t feel creepy, like thinking of him that way, and thinking of him reciprocating her advances when she was made her feel.

Clarke wonders where the line stands, what’s changed, but she knows she changed, maybe he changed a little bit as well, she’s sure he must have, something has. He doesn’t sound so smug, but he’s still just as charming, maybe more exactly because of that, he’s not condescending, but she’s not pretending anymore either. She’s not a little girl looking for reassurance anymore, trying to please everyone but herself, she’s a grown woman who puts her pleasure first and knows how to get it, and isn’t afraid of wanting it, and right now she’s a woman who wants to get it from him.

“You are hell bent on getting that d tonight, huh?” Raven’s question breaks through her inquiry and she hadn’t even noticed the girl had left the bathroom. Clarke blushes, but smirks sheepishly at her. “Hey, I respect that… Been there, done that… It’s a solid d.” She adds with a wink, as she’s washing her hands, and Clarke laughs, because she’s not surprised at Raven’s brashness anymore. “Might be more than that, but we were both in a bad place so… I met Wick a while after, and Bellamy unfortunately doesn’t swing both ways.”

“You and Wick?” Clarke raises an eyebrow just at the surprise of it, Raven just smirks in reply. “Well, who would’ve thought. What’s the statistic probability of there only being one straight person in a table of four people?” She laughs, and Raven bumps her slimmer hips to hers.

“I like you Clarke, you can stay.” She smiles brightly at the compliment, because as much as she’s not looking for reassurance, it’s always good to be liked. “You ride that motorcycle.” Raven’s look at her is borderline indecent and she laughs, arms linking as they walk back towards the booth just in time to catch something Bellamy is saying.

“I’m not a fucking eunuch, you dick.” He shoves Wick, rolling her eyes, and Clarke snickers a bit at that.

 “One would certainly hope not.” She’s pretty sure she’s copying the look Raven had just shot her as she reaches past him to get both their jackets, giving him a nice view of her ass. Because even if they’re not as mind blowing as her tits she’s still pretty proud of it as well, and sure enough Bellamy’s eyes are focused downward as she pulls back, she hands him the jacket.

They get the tab taken care of, Clarke chugs down a can of coke while Bellamy murders a bottle of water, and he’s looking at her stunned, eyebrows shooting up as she lets out a belch, and shrugs, smirking. She reaches for his hand before she can think too much about it, and leads him back out, the fresh air does just about as much as the soda to clear her head from the light fog that had settled there from the alcohol. Clarke lets go of his hand to pull on her jacket, taking a deep breath, letting it out in a smile.

“So, where’s this bike I keep hearing about?” She turns to him after a beat, and he picks up her hand again and she’d be lying if she said her heart didn’t skip a beat at it. He’s smirking as he brings her hand to his lips and presses a soft, slow kiss to her knuckles that wakes this burning feeling inside her body.

“Princess, meet princess.” He chuckles easily and it’s warm and deep and like a thick spoonful of honey, but her attention shifts soon enough to the bike. The first thing she notices is something Raven pointed out, it’s a vintage model, from the late 40’s and it looks historic, it suits Bellamy. It’s also almost the same shade of red as her lips and her jacket, slim and gorgeous, she bets it sounds amazing. She’s touching the handle a bit reverently, because it’s not like she understands bikes, but she’s always found them exciting and insanely sexy.

“Can I drive?” She asks, before she can stop herself. It wouldn’t be the first time she does, she took some spins around in Italy on some vespas and Lexa had had a motorcycle as well, though it really hadn’t been as nice as this one, she had taught her how to handle herself on one.

“You do know how?” Bellamy questions, and she rolls her eyes at him, crossing her arms, and she smirks when his eyes move down to her chest for a split second yet again. “Are you confident you’re well enough to?”

“Ultimately I had a lot less to drink than you, I also ate just before I came over, did you?” She presses, and he shakes his head sheepishly, because all he’s eaten are peanuts, pretzels and some olives Miller spared him because they were his favorite. “Come on, I have an idea.” She leans closer to him, just shy of leaning into him, and smirks up at him. “Trust me.” She sees the minute he decides to, and hands her over the keys. “So… I’m thinking you and I should make new memories of each other at school, but we have to make a couple of stops first.”   

She’s scared she might have pushed it too far, he won’t find it exciting, that she’s being too swayed by students who had crushes on him back in her day, and the ones who do now, but she can’t help it if it’s painted a visual that she can’t be able to shake off. Clarke found out soon enough into her sexual liberation that she has a thing for power exchange, so the closer she can get him to dominate her, and respond to her calls of ‘sir’ the better, the fact that he’s a teacher makes it all the more… Interesting.

“Where?” He is cautious and Clarke can see the wheels turning inside his brain, because he hasn’t agreed yet, but the fact that he’s open to the idea is enough for her. So she curls her hand around the keys he’s given her before pressing closer to him, and hooking a finger into the collar of his sweater, pulling him closer to it.

“I need to stop by my hotel and then, we’re going to nick the keys from my stepfather.” Is what she whispers before she’s closing the gap between them, and pressing her lips to his. Both his arms curl around her waist soon enough, and she feels tiny against his body as he pulls her flush against him. Bellamy has a good number of inches on him, and she’s not wearing heels because she can’t be bothered. If his voice was like honey his lips were the first warm day after winter, it melts away what little reluctance she might still be carrying while warming her up beautifully.

She sighs when his tongue traced her bottom lip, and she parts her lips promptly for him, meeting it with her own, curling it around his and enjoying it as they licked into each other’s mouths, the kiss is soft but slow, deliberate, exploring. His hands stay on her waist, but one of his thumbs brushes against her ribcage and makes her shiver in delight, before they’re breathing slowly and letting out content sighs as they pull away from each other. 

“Which hotel are you at, princess?” He asks, and the nickname would put her off but he sounds so affectionate about it, she can’t bring herself to feel anything but giddy. She tells him his hotel, and it’s just down the street so he drives them there, promising she can drive them over to her mother’s house.

She doesn’t take long at her hotel, she only needs to grab her house keys, really, but she ends up adding a few things to that list as Bellamy waits outside. She’s still out in just over five minutes after stripping down, pulling off clothes, and changing into a pair of stockings and a trench coat, slipping on some flats that would be a lot easier to kick off than her boots at that. He’s arching an eyebrow when she comes out, fully changed.

“Was all this necessary? You were better dressed for the drive before.” He says thoughtfully, and she chuckles a bit because it’s true, she’s definitely dressed for something else right now.

“Just shut up and give me the keys, Bell.” She uses his nickname for the first time, and it’s pretty evident by his smile that he likes it, so he hands her the keys, and lets her settle onto the bike before he does.

“You know, the only person I’ve actually rode this bike like this with is O.” She knows by that he means his sister Octavia, and it makes her feel a bit fuzzy that he maybe didn’t let or didn’t have a girlfriend to let drive his bike, and here she is. He’s got his arms around her waist again, as she starts the bike, and he’s making sure everything is alright before they’re off.

The drive over to the Griffin property takes a reasonably longer amount of time, and she chuckles through her focus because she’s almost positive Bellamy is sniffing her hair, and he’s definitely squeezing her tighter every time she makes a turn, it’s both endearing and aggravating. But Clarke is feeling free, there’s wind in her face, and her hair is flowing freely and she’s never felt so much like she’s flying because his bike is so fucking awesome.

As much as the trip is much longer, they’re still before she wants to cut the engine, but she has to. She tells him the front gate security code and he punches it in to open it, and they drive slowly up to the house, because she needs to make as little sound as possible, even though she’s pretty sure Marcus and her mom will be in their bedrooms by now. The moon is full in the sky, so there’s plenty of light on the drive up even though she’s turn off the headlights. Bellamy helps her park and settles the bike, before she leads him up into the house.

“The keys should be in the bowl by the front door, you should recognize it, it should look like the one you have to your office.” She tells him in a whisper as they step in quietly, he’s looking at her in question but she smirks widely. “I’ve got to get something, I’ll be right back.”

She rushes up to her bedroom making as little noise as she can, and opens her old closet, to no surprise what so ever, she finds her old uniform soon enough. What else doesn’t surprise her is that she’ll only manage to close it around her waist now, not around her hips like she used to, but that’ll only serve it’s purpose even more since it covers her up to mid-thigh now. Her trench coat hides it entirely as she bounces back down, and he frowns because it doesn’t look like she got anything, but she just dismisses him so they can head out.

“Come on.” She giggles, and it’s the loudest sound she’s left out since they got into the house, but soon enough they’re closing the door and back on his motorcycle, though this time with him driving, and as much as she did have fun driving over, she’s set on having even more fun now. With her hands wrapped securely around his torso, she doesn’t waste much time before she slips them under the two layers of fabric separating her fingers from his skin.

Much like everything about him seems to be, his skin is so fucking warm, and Clarke questions for a second if he’s actually made of sunshine, because that’s the only explanation she can come up with. That or he’s an actual mythological creature forged from lava, the devil out to get her soul. Something she already feels like giving him just after a few hours of painting a different picture than the one she had of him before. She’s come to believe in kindred spirits during her travels, and with the way her and Bellamy, then Mr. Blake had always played off each other, even when he got on her nerves, she should have known.

Her fingers trace the hard planes of his skin and she can feel him tense, and the low chuckle that leaves him vibrates through her whole body, intensifying the feeling the bike is already creating between her legs. She’s taken off her panties after pulling on the skirt and their tucked inside her trench coat pocket, but that means she’s straddling the seat bare, and the stimulation to her clit is all sorts of crazy. Along with the feeling of his muscles against her fingers, she’s pretty sure the only reason he can’t hear her whimpers is because of the sound of the bike itself and the wind rushing through his ears.

It takes about twenty minutes to get to the school, but she’s hoping off the bike as soon as they get there, all but bouncing with excitement. Bellamy holds onto her hands, and slips his fingers through hers as he leads her up, and it makes her heart beat even faster. Though it’d been pretty much ramming inside her chest from the adrenaline rush of the ride over, she can feel it in her throat now.

Clarke watches as he opens the door and punches in the alarm code, because obviously he knows, he’s a part of the faculty, so it doesn’t surprise her one bit. What does surprise her is that she doesn’t even have to ask before he’s leading her to his classroom and it makes her smirk a bit, pressing her legs together because she’s already dripping down her thighs and it’s embarrassing how even wetter she’s getting at the idea of finally getting her hands on him, properly.

He opens the door and lets her step in first with a polite nod, but as soon as he closes the door he’s pulling her and pressing her against it, if he had debated the moral issue of all this at some point, he was definitely done with it. It manages to distract her for a second, because he’s kissing her again, his body feels even harder against her as she’s actually braced against a hard surface and he’s pushing against her, her hands are in his hair and his black curls feel so fucking soft.

It’s his hands working the belt on her trench coat that bring Clarke back to herself, and she’s pushing at his chest gently, but it’s enough to get him to pull back, again, she’s a woman on a mission. She reaches down for his hand again, and kisses his palm slowly, before she pulls him over to his desk, and nods for him to brace himself back against it, before she takes a few steps back to stand in front of him.

“The last time we were here together, you were a new teacher who had good intentions but a bad attitude, and I was a stubborn, lost princess trying to please everyone but myself.” Clarke starts, undoing the knot in her belt then easily, her eyes never leave his, and his hold her gaze, which she is glad for. He’s hanging on her every word. “My dad died the year before you came to teach here, so I psyched myself out into pleasing my mom because she was my last living parent.” His nod is a blessing and his eyes are suddenly softer, filled with understanding. 

“My mother was sick during my first year here, your year… She died a little into the second year, I’ve had to take care of my sister on my own, I’m her guardian, she’s a high school senior now.” He offers and it’s another shared thing, another connection, both of us explaining part of what brought on the changes in ourselves, and why we were so biting at each other when we first met.

“Dropping out of pre-med was… The hardest thing I’ve ever done, not because it meant losing myself, but because it meant finding myself and I was so scared of that, and I didn’t have my mother’s support, other than Wells, I had no one.” Clarke’s fingers hover over the top button before she starts slowly undoing them. “I went to Europe alone, and it’s been… Cathartic. I still had most of my college tuition fund saved up, and my parents always aimed for Ivy League so there was plenty of money. I took art courses, photography classes, cooking lessons and language courses, I bettered my French, I learnt some Italian, I ate, I laughed, I loved, I became myself.” 

“I always knew you could. I was so frustrated because you had so much potential, and you were so obviously stuck and consumed by something, grief I know now, and it’s crazy because it was the same thing for me, but I couldn’t tell you, and you wouldn’t tell me… But it was so there, and I knew somehow. If we could just have talked.” He chuckles, and it’s not frustrated, because she joins him, and it’s like the two of them really breath for the first time since he flirted with her earlier that afternoon.

“Well, if we could have talked, I’d probably just be one more of those silly students who can’t keep their panties on around you, and make you incredibly uncomfortable.” She smirks, as she licks her lips, because some of what she has planned is taken from their playbook, but now that’s definitely not what she is, and that’s what makes it different.

“Wouldn’t want that. I’m glad you weren’t.” He agrees, but his voice is heavy, and he’s obviously growing impatient as he watches her work through the buttons. “The only reason we’re here and it doesn’t bother me is that you never were, and you’re very obviously not now.”

“No. Now I’m a grown woman, standing in front of an insanely handsome man, looking for one last cathartic experience before we can move on to whatever we want out of this.” Clarke is finally finished with the buttons on her trench coat, but she’s holding it closed, biting her lip, waits for him to hold his breath before dropping it to the floor. She’s wearing her standard uniform skirt, high on her waist, but there’s not much else but the talked about push up bra and the stockings. “Can you do that for me, Bell?”  

   
  


A small part of him wants to laugh and call Wick just to tell him how fucking spot on he was, but really that part is really small. Because Clarke’s standing in front of him just about busting out of a dark lacy bra and a skirt that’s never looked so short on her, hugging the curve of her waist much like his arms had been just moments ago. There’s just a few inches of skin between the top of the lace band on her stockings and the hem of the plaid skirt and it looks like the softest patch of skin he’s ever seen in his life, he wants to sink a bite mark there, and if this act is any indication, she’ll let him. Her face couldn't be the picture of innocence, all light blond hair and bright blue eyes, but her teeth busy her bottom lip in a way that’s both nervous and determined, all hail Clarke Griffin, queen of contradiction, and her eyes watch him with heated expectation, he’s not willing to disappoint her.  

“I’m pretty sure you want to call me something else, what with all this, and all?” Bellamy smirks easily as his eyes rake through her in inch by inch after taking off his glasses, that by now are way too smudged to be of any use. He suppresses his laughter, because really he’s spent way too much time debating the moral dilemma of all this and they’ve just had a pretty honest conversation while she was stripping for him. He’s never really had any problem with the idea of the skirt, and the idea of power exchange has always done wonders for him in the right conditions, and these are definitely the right conditions.

She’s the one who’s been taking the lead with most of this, even though he’s been plenty responsive, up to this point he’s been more observant, really getting to know Clarke in this new light, as this new woman, and it’s easy to say he’s definitely interested in this new woman. And if she wants to hand him the reigns and let him take charge of the lead from now on, he’s only that more than happy to oblige. The moment he’s said the words he can watch what little nerves she was clinging to melting off of her and her body is giving away all signs of arousal. Lips are parted, pupils are dilated, breath has become harsher, and legs are pressing together, it’s looking down at them that something finally catches his eye for a little longer.

“Are you not wearing any underwear, Ms. Griffin?” Bellamy smirks, as he slips off his leather jacket, and hangs it over the back of his chair, before he rests his hands on the top of his desk, looking over at her with the distinctive look of a predator who’s stalking their prey. The only matter was his prey was so willing she seemed to have taken care of a few steps on her own. “I asked you a question.” He presses watching as her legs part again so she can stop squirming a bit in her place and she squares her jaw, her eyes growing decisively more heated.

“No, sir.” Clarke licks her lip, and they’re still red but he doesn’t spend too much time thinking about how the fuck her lipstick is still on because he has more pressing issues on his mind. He takes heavy steps across his desk once more, and beckons her over with a finger, hears a sharp intake of breath and smirks to himself as her much lighter steps make their way to him. The fact that she calls him sir is the last confirmation he needs to make sure he isn’t crossing any boundaries.

“That’s very inappropriate of you, Ms. Griffin, I never pegged you for one of those naughty girls.” She’s leaning the side of her hip against his table right beside him, and he just has to lower his gaze to have a deliciously enticing view of her cleavage, oh, he’s going to have fun with those, but all in due time.

“I’m sorry, sir.” She attempts to be convincing, but it’s pretty evident in her tone that she’s not very sorry at all, and he’s smirking wider, pushing his sleeves back up to his elbows before reaching for her and making her face the desk, his body heavy behind hers then, her back against his chest.

“Do you know what happens to naughty girls?” Bellamy breathes against her ear, and he’s rewarded with the most delicious shiver that breaks through her and a whimper, he’s definitely starting to get really uncomfortable in his pants.

“They get spanked, sir?” Clarke answers, and it’s heavy, and fuck it has his cock twitching because yes, they get spanked. He was already leaning towards a little spanking but the fact that she’s practically begging him for it takes this to a whole new level.

His hands are heavy on the back of her thighs and her skin is even softer than he anticipated and he just wants to squeeze every delectable inch of her, but he moves up inside the skirt and settles for the globes of her ass first, she’s quivering against him as he does. Bellamy rubs and kneads at her skin, fingers squeezing into the round flesh before he pulls one hand back, and presses it to the curve of her spine, making her lean forward against his desk, arching her back in a way that makes the ivory skin of the curve of her ass stick up in the air a bit.

“Ten points for Gryffindor.” He teases as he folds up her skirt and takes a step back. They’ve talked about museums, paintings, he’s mentioned the Renaissance, and he feels like he’s staring at a masterpiece as he watches her. Legs slightly parted for leverage, ass framed by the skirt but in full display, all soft, plump, ivory skin that’s about to turn a lovely shade of pink. “Ten slaps for Ms. Griffin. Count with me, if you miss one, you’ll get another.” She lets out that whimpering noise again, and it’s like it shoots straight to his cock. He takes a steadying breath, and rests his palm over the underside of her ass again, rubbing it to give her some preparation, before he pulls back and lands a quick and decisive smack to it.

“One.” Clarke’s voice rings out like a moan, and he’s licking his lips before he adds another whip, just slightly harsher. “Two.” She’s bracing herself more fully against the desk just as one more comes. “Fuck, three.” Her knees are shaking and they’re not even halfway through yet, maybe he’ll have to give her a little break. “Four.” Even so, she’s sticking her ass out at him so he knows she’s enjoying it. “Five.” She relaxes a bit as he starts rubbing over the reddening cheek, while pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

“I want to move on to the next one, but I need to make sure you can take it, and don’t just be stubborn with me, Ms. Griffin.” Bellamy knows he’s not being extremely punishing with his hand, but they still needed to be able to take his bike out of there comfortably. “I’m serious Clarke, I have no means of caring for you right away after this.”

“There’s lotion and a jar of water in the girls bathroom, should be empty but…” She calls out, as she recovers her breath, but his hands are still on her ass, and she keeps pushing it back into it. He’s a bit surprised to hear about the lotion, but then it’s an upscale private school, they had engraved towels, he shouldn’t be surprised at all. “I’m fine Bellamy, seriously.”

“Okay, Ms. Griffin, we should go back to counting then.” He makes sure to spread the smacks all over the curve of her ass much like he had the last time, going from close to the base of her spine, down to the curve over the top of her thighs. He applies the same strength he did before and she counts a little more steadily, purposefully missing the last one if her smirk is any indicator so he gives her another slap.

“Thank you, sir.” Clarke whispers to him finally, and her legs are only a little wobbly as she pushes up straight and turns to look at him. “I deserved that.” Her eyes are full of mischief as she speaks letting him know that by no means whatsoever is she upset or hurt, even though he’s sure her ass cheeks are pulsing right now. This wasn’t punishment, this was something she desperately wanted, and since that was the case.

“Yes, you did Ms. Griffin.” He crowds closer to her, hand curling around the strip of skin between the waistband of her skirt and the cup of her bra as he looks down at her, searching for any sort of reluctance there and finding none. Bellamy smirks, and moves his hand to cup her face then and his smile grows softer as she leans into his touch, and looks up at him all mischief and wonder. “Such a good little princess.” He whispers before he lowers his lips to hers a little more affectionately than he has up until now, it’s slow paced and intimate one of her arms wrapping around his waist and holding him close as they just savor the taste of each other’s mouths.

Her hand curls around his wrist, stroking just over one of his tattoos as they pull away, just an inch. He brushes a kiss to her chin and peppers soft ones along her jaw, a smirk spreading across Bellamy’s lips as he notices just exactly what she’s doing with her hand on his wrist. Clarke tugs at it gingerly, and soon enough she’s spreading her legs a little wider and easing his hand there, and he can’t hold back the animalistic grunt that leaves his mouth once he starts stroking her slit.

“Fuck Clarke, you’re dripping.” He grunts, and chuckles darkly right against her ear and that has her nails sinking into the skin of his wrist. “Was it just the spanking? How long have you been like this? Jesus.” Bellamy nuzzles into her neck as he pushed two fingers straight into her, being met with almost no resistance.

“God, the spanking sure did a number.” Clarke finally lets go of his wrist, her nails dragging up his forearm and settling on his bicep. “But I’ve been growing consistently wet all night, and then… Fuck, there was your bike, and the stimulation on my clit, and the feel of your stupid abs… I would have cum right there in a minute or two more.”

“No one’s ever cum on my bike before, fuck that’s hot. We’ll definitely have to revisit that.” He’s saying without much thought, because his thumb is finding her clit so he can give it the attention it deserves, while he keeps stroking his fingers into her, and they move so easily.

“Will we?” It’s only when she poses the question, hooking her hand around his neck that he’s realized what he’s said, and a sheepish smirk spreads through his lips before he nods in agreement. Bellamy covers his lips with hers then, and it’s not so much tender anymore, as it is demanding, passionate, hungry, his fingers gaining new rhythm to match its pace as he swallows her moans. “Bell... Fuck.” He can feel her walls start fluttering around his fingers and he knows she’s close, and fuck that was fast.

“Come on Ms. Griffin, be a good little princess.” The moan that leaves her mouth after that is indecent and she’s latching her teeth around his bottom lip, as he curls his fingers inside her and watches her come undone, shuddering. Bellamy hooks one arm around her waist to help her balance herself then as she catches her breath, eyes closed and chest heaving. If she’s not the most attractive woman he’s ever seen he doesn’t know what she is.

“Need a minute?” He asks, and it’s honest as he pulls his fingers out of her, not making a spectacle out of licking them clean, but really, unable to help himself. “I’m going to get you that lotion and some water, I don’t want you to touch yourself while I’m gone, is that okay?” She nods her consent, and just to make her more comfortable, he pulls off his sweater and folds it over the edge of the table. “This should make it softer if you have to brace yourself.” Her answering smile is sweet and affectionate as he presses a kiss to her forehead before heading out.

 

 

Clarke’s thoughts are running circles around her head as Bellamy leaves her alone, really, she’s reeling because even in her wildest fantasies things had never been this good. The complete notion of someone being so sweet and considerate, while being able to spank her silly and talk dirty to her was making it an herculean task out of getting her breathing straight again. He had yet to get his lips or his cock inside her for that matter and her legs were already weak, she’d surprised if by the end of the night she hadn’t raked up a total of at least three orgasms.

She really doesn’t have all that much time to pull herself together before Bellamy’s pushing through the door again, smiling brilliantly at her, his mouth is shiny, so she figured he drank some water himself. Clarke returns it as she can, still short of breath as he walks over, and indicates for her to turn around and get back to the position she was when he was slapping her, the only difference this time is that he’s kneeling behind her. He’s set down the jar of water and the empty tall glass beside her, before getting into position.

“Oh.” Clarke can’t help the sigh that leaves her lips as his lotion covered palms find her heated ass cheeks and he starts rubbing them delicately. Before she can help herself she’s leaning into the desk, eyes closed and enjoying his gentle touch. “That feels really nice.” She spreads her legs again, unconsciously and he stops for a second, making her blush and giggle a bit, but he stops her when she moves to close them again so she leaves them.

If only she knew he was planning to lean in and press a harsh bite to her inner thigh she would never have attempted to close them in the first place. Her hips buck a bit under his touch, so contrasting from his care on her ass, but she whimpers, his hands, satisfied with his work move away from her cheeks, and suddenly he’s maneuvering so he’s not on his knees anymore, but standing up once again. Bellamy fills the glass of water to the brim then, and hands it to her.

“Drink. You’re going to need it.” His smirk leaves no shade of doubt to his promise, and she’s humming with anticipation again, gulping down the water eagerly. “Good princess.” He kisses her again once she sets the glass down, just deep enough to get her body moving closer to his. “Now, I got to taste how delicious you are from my fingers, but I’d like to spend some time between your legs tasting your glorious cunt, is that okay, Ms. Griffin?”

“Yes. God, yes, sir.” The glass is shaking because her hands are trembling as she lets go of it, while Bellamy is helping her sit down over his folded sweater before he holds onto her thighs. He kisses her again then, and it’s possessive again, demanding, her hands shooting up into his hair as he bites at her lips, and pulls, her tongue seeking entrance to his mouth as his hands make quick work of her bra. She lets out a breath of relief once she’s out of it’s confinements, pretty sure there are marks left by the garment on her light skin, but that thought is cut short by his hands palming her breasts.

“You have the most gorgeous pair of tits, princess.” He whispers as he fondles them, weighing them in his hands, and squeezing the heavy flesh, before his thumbs start paying extra attention to her nipples, and that has her whimpering again. God, his hand are just the right amount of rough, light callouses massaging her skin and pulling at her nipples until they pebble, fuck she’s getting so wet again. “I’m going to suck on them now.”

“Please, sir.” She begs him with no shame, sinking her fingers into his hair as he drags his hot mouth down the column of her neck, tongue licking at the sweat that’s gathered there, as he holds her breasts up for his mouth to feast on. Once he’s got his lips wrapped around one of her nipples, he takes advantage of his free arm to wrap around her so she can relax against his hold for leverage and she arches more comfortably into his touch, fingers pulling at his soft, dark curls while nails drag across his scalp.

Bellamy’s assault is relentless, he sucks hard, and nibbles on her skin, licks over it to sooth it, before he repeats himself. Clarke doesn’t think her tits have ever been so lavished with attention, and they surely have been her most sought out asset. But his tongue is hot against her cold skin, and his teeth are harsh but they tug at the pink bud just the right way to make her squirm, before he turns his ministrations to the other breast, his hand coming to care for the one that’s warm with the aftermath of his mouth.

“So soft. So nice, and pink.” He whispers into her nipple once he finally lets it go with a pop, and unwraps his arm from around her, so he can help her lay down on the desk. “But now to the main course.” He’s boyish and lovely, and too sexy for her own good and she can’t stop staring at the freckles that aren’t being covered by his pretty scruff. He spreads her legs for him, and she’s thankful that he rests them on his shoulders, because that’s a little extra comfort for her.

“Thank you, sir.” Clarke smiles, and then closes her eyes to get the full force of his first lick to her slit, god she’s so sensitive, and so wet already it’s not even fair. He gathers up her juices on his tongue and licks up, and soon he’s paying her clit the same reverent attention he had offered her nipples and it’s so fucking good. “God, Bellamy, sir…” She reaches for the hem of her skirt to hold it out of the way just out of needing something to hold onto before he notices that and guides her hands into his hair.

“Fuck princess, you’re so wet again already, so ready, are you always this receptive?” She hopes he’s looking up as he asks, because she’s shaking her head, having lost her voice in a gasp as he nibbled at her clit. “Good, I like that. We can definitely work with that.” He smirks and there’s another dark chuckle as he’s pushing his fingers against her entrance, and she can’t help it, her walls are fluttering again, so close.

“It’s you, and tonight, and your bike, and our conversation, and the fucking spanking, and you, just you fuck…” Clarke knows she’s rambling, but he’s curling his fingers inside her just right, and his mouth is unstoppable on her clit, between licking at it with the flat of his tongue and sucking at the little bud, he has her toes curling and she can feel her orgasm just about to break.

“Cum for me, princess.” He whispers, and she clutches tight at his hair, arching her back when it finally does break over her, though of course Bellamy isn’t satisfied, because he’s pressing his thumb to her clit so he could lick into her pussy and let her taste flow onto his tongue, and he laps at her. It’s like she’s his favorite dessert and he’s not past licking the plate because he twists and curls the warm member inside her as he rubs at her clit without allowing her a moment’s breath, and sensitive as she is, she can feel her stomach tightening with pleasure again. “I’m going to make you cum like this again, because I’m still not done with how good your pussy tastes.”

Once again she’s beyond words, but her fingers somehow find the strength to keep tugging at his hair, harder and harder, scratching at his scalp, as her hips push against his touch, because as much as she’s sure she’s about to pass out, she can’t stop herself. Since the moment she allowed herself to open up to sex, she’s known she’s quite the orgasm chaser, but she’s never been so undeniably prompt to go off like Bellamy has her tonight, she’s afraid they might be starting off too good, burning off too bright to start with, but she can’t bring herself to care.

Not when his tongue is buried in her cunt and his thumb is rubbing vicious circles around her clit, between every pinch with the aid of his forefinger, not when she’s burning hot and bright for the third time that night. Clarke manages to push his head up with her hands not long after, just as he’s finished feasting on her, because really, she needs a minute, or two, or ten. He’s pouring her water again, and helping her sit up before he offers it to her, and she’s thankful again.

“This really is the best of both worlds.” Clarke mumbles against her glass as she takes her time drinking it down this time breathing slowly as Bellamy rubs soothing circles around her back while she rests against his chest. That’s when she finally gathers her wits long enough to realize he’s basically fully dressed apart from his jacket and sweater. “Oh my god, Bellamy you must be so uncomfortable.”

 

 

“What?” He asks, frowning down at her, his hand stopping it’s movements where he had been stroking her hair and he looks down at himself. He’s honestly been genuinely so excited, and enthusiastic and just plain delighted to have his face buried deep between her thighs he’s kind of ignored the fact that he has a raging erection, and he groans now that he’s no longer distracted by her, because she’s right. “Fuck, I’d forgotten about…” A chuckle breaks through his lips as he pulls at his belt and pops open his jeans, and just by getting rid of his confines, he’s much more comfortable.

 “Your massive boner?” She arches an eyebrow at him, and he laughs openly, because really, he had. But Clarke can’t quite seem to take her eyes off of him now as she sets down her empty glass of water and adjusts herself on the table. “I really want us to fuck still… But I’m going to need a little while longer. You really did a number on me.” He smirks as she finally looks up at him, and if he’s a bit smug she can’t blame him for it, he’s pretty sure three orgasms give him the right to be smug.

“We have all the time in the world, princess.” Bellamy calls sweetly at her, reaching for her face again, so he can plant a slow, kind kiss to her lips, she’s receptive, arches up into it, reaches for his sides as he stands between his legs. They spend a couple of minutes just kissing at their own leisure, his hand find it's way back into her hair, the other curled around her jaw tilting her face up to his. He’s even taller than her like this, because she’s sat on the desk and he’s between her legs, but he just had to lean down to easily close the space between them without any discomfort.

“And you’re still fully dressed.” She chuckles, and it’s honestly music to his ears, because he’s so invested in this already it’s a little scary, but he was always a little too invested in her one way or the other. He watches as her fingers reach up for the top button on his plaid shirt and he smiles brightly at her, deftly working through the buttons as she keeps pressing soft kisses to his lips. She stops for a minute as she pushes the shirt off his shoulders, and she notices his half sleeve, the surprise in her eyes is evident and he smirks to himself. “Wow.”

“Mythological creatures.” He smiles as she reaches for his left upper arm and starts tracing it. “And prominent historical figures of my choosing.” He adds, as she’s still tracing through the intricate piece, they’re all made to look like oil paintings so it might look like one big Renaissance piece, from Augustus, Rome’s first emperor and an interpretation of Thoth, Egyptian god of knowledge, to Cerberus, the three headed dog who guarded the underworld and Pegasus, the winged stallion. There was still a sphinx and a portrait of Socrates. “I have a couple more.”

“Yes, I thought I saw one earlier on your wrist.” She reaches for his wrist and he smiles at the matching tattoo he had with Octavia they got on her sixteenth birthday, it was an infinity sign with a B on one ring and a O in the other, and he can tell she knows what it means immediately. “What else?”

“Just one more.” He tells her, and she arches an eyebrow in a smirk as he moves to undo his pants and he can’t help bursting out in laughter. “Get your mind out of the gutter Griffin, it’s on my calf.” He kicks off his shoes and toes off his socks before he slips off his pants and turns around so she could see the compass tattoo he had there.  “Do you like it?” He asks after she hasn’t said much in a while.

“Sorry, I have to admit I’ve been staring at your very fine ass.” Clarke laughs, and he blushes a bit, glad she can’t see it because it matches in no way what so ever the persona he’s stepped into for the night, but he runs his hands up the back of his hair and that he can’t hide. “You have really gorgeous back muscles too.” He hears her getting up from the table before he feels anything, but soon her hands are on his shoulder blades, tracing the planes of the muscles on his upper back. “But I really like it, I really like all of them. I’d never have guessed you’d have a half sleeve.” Her fingers move to trace his arms then, and he twists his neck to see she’s eying his tattoo again. “Do you think you’ll get the other one done?”

“I might. If I have more ideas, or something different.” He agrees, sighing contently as he feels her lips press between his shoulder blades then, and he can see her pushing up on her tiptoes as he feels them press to the back of his neck then. “I think I saw some on you, but I might have been a bit too distracted, I’m sorry.” He admits, chuckling a bit.

“I might have wanted you to be distracted.” Clarke giggles, and she’s walking around him, then moving to get rid of her skirt, and suddenly he could see the splattering of little tattoos. They looked like the little flowers from one of Van Gogh’s paintings, a tree he saw outside her house if he remembered well, and some or the wind swirls from starry night, along with the moon from the same painting. His fingers ghost over her right side, down her ribcage and the curve of her waist into her hip where they settled.

“These are really pretty, princess.” Bellamy smiles at her, pulling her closer to him once again, and leaning down to kiss her quickly. “Is he your favorite? Van Gogh?” She nods at his question and he smiles because he can definitely see it. “Impressionist Princess.” She giggles again and he swears the sound warms his heart.

“That nickname’s going to stick, isn’t it?” He smiles brightly when she asks, nodding in agreement, and he’s reaching down to scoop her up from the back of her thighs, her legs wrapping around his hips promptly. Bellamy turns them around so her back is to the desk again and he settles her down over his sweater again, and she’s taking advantage of the fact that he’s busy to finally hook her fingers around the waistband of his boxers and tugs down, finally freeing his erection. “Oh, it’s about time we set you free, huh?” She’s licking her lips, and for once he wonders if her mouth is actually watering at the sight of him.

“Clarke…” He grunts as she reaches her dainty little fingers around the base of his cock. He’s been hard for long enough that he’s light headed, even if he’s been deflating since they’ve slowed down, now he’s springing up to life again. “Are you good to go?”

“All we need is a condom.” She smiles mischievously and he has one, but he needs her to stop touching his dick for half a second so he can think straight before he remembers where he left it. “Do you have one?” She’s kind enough to ask, and he adds a groan to his nod. “Where?” He points to his pants, and he’s glad she’s doing all the work, because really, he’s feeling like he’s only managing to use 1% of his brain capacity.

She let’s go of him long enough for him to reach down for his jeans, but she sneaks them from his hands and retrieves the condom, swiftly taking care of rolling it down onto him, with quite some expertise, and gives him a few more gentle tugs.

“You are one captivating creature.” Bellamy whispers, as he leans down to kiss her again, wrapping one arm around her and pulling her closer to him, helping her lean back as he’s leaning further towards the desk as well. She brings his cock over to her slit, but he doesn’t let her push down onto him, just rubs himself against her slit, holding onto it, to use it to poke at her clit, and focuses mostly on their kiss.

It starts slow, but he’s aiming for a build, his lips grazing against hers in a deliberate motion, tongue searching for hers again, as they start dancing with each other. It’s a waltz at first, purposeful strokes, fluid and light, but it evolves into a tango, everything is still as precise, but it’s stronger, and passionate. By the time she’s squirming under him it’s a proper lambada, the forbidden dance, where they’re basically just consuming each other, and using their mouths to touch in ways their hands might not be.

That’s when he finally presses into her entrance and pushes his cock into her. She’s wet, and welcoming, and she takes him in and engulfs him like a warm hug. Clarke’s arms wrap around him, much like her legs, and it’s like she really wants to hug all of him. His hands find the edge of the desk, and he makes sure she’s comfortable before he starts rolling his hips into hers, much like the kiss, letting the pace and intensity of the snap of his movements escalate.

“Bellamy.” She cries as her fingers trace fiery paths across his back and his shoulders, his arms and wherever else she can reach, he’s already burning up before she even starts using her nails. He only feels her doing so when he’s started sucking and nibbling marks along her shoulders and the ample skin of the tops of her breasts. “God, yes.” She pushes back hard into him when he hits a particular spot, and he makes a point of keeping his angle, but curling his hand tighter around the mahogany desk he thrusts harder, aggressively even.

“I’m not going to cum until I round out the count at five, princess…” He lets her know, kissing her ear, as he pulls one hand away from the desk and covers one of her breasts with it, squeezing the flesh, before he pinches her nipple, trying to spare her nearly abused clit, but the result is pretty much the same. Her pussy walls start clenching around his cock, but he makes a point of not letting go until he’s sure she’s enjoyed her high thoroughly, letting out that finally, lazy, long moan, before he empties himself into the condom, with a breath that sounds like her name.

They don’t talk for a couple of minutes, he’s taken care of the condom, tying it up moving as little as he could, as he enjoys her fingers carding through his hair. Hips lips brush against the skin of her breasts and find her tattoos, which he smiles against, she seems to notice and chuckles.

He lends her his sweater on their way out from the school, and it engulfs her. They stop at the halls to look at pictures and talk about things, but honestly he can’t take his eyes off her or concentrate on anything but the fact that she looks so fucking good in his sweater. She pulls on her panties, which he finds were in the pocket of her trench coat, just before they walk out the doors.

When they get to her hotel he can’t seem to let her stay, so they check out and he brings her to his apartment, Octavia’s asleep on the couch when they get there, probably waiting for him to get home, even though he texted her at the bar to not wait up. Clarke helps him get his sister to her bedroom, covering her with a blanket and telling him she’s gorgeous once he’s settled on the bed, and if Octavia wasn’t the world’s heaviest sleeper she might have woken up.

Clarke whips them up some crêpes, because of course she’s learnt how to make crêpes in Paris, she mentions they’re just pancakes skinny cousin, and they eat them much like they were with butter and syrup. She lets him rub another handful of lotion on her ass once they’re done, and when he gets hard again, she sucks him until he’s biting down hard onto his fist not to roar like the three legged dog on his arm and wake up the whole building, minus Octavia.

They still talk and kiss plenty before they finally settle in to sleep, it’s light outside when they do, and she’s still wearing his sweater. He pulls her into his chest and her hair smells like strawberries, which makes him look down for a second, and finally her lips aren’t that sinful shade of red anymore, just their natural pink color, he swoops in for another kiss, she touches his face, tracing his freckles.

“I’m going to draw you one day, and many other days too. Several times.” She whispers, and her eyes are drooping and she is the cutest thing he’s ever seen, he wouldn’t be surprised to find out she’s part bunny. It would make perfect sense with how sexually charged their night had been, and how she could still look so soft, sweet, innocent if he didn’t know better.

“Good night, princess. Naughty princess.” He teases, as she snuggles into his chest, and he holds her there, fingers stroking through her hair, and he smiles, closing his own eyes, he only hears one last thing before he falls asleep.

“Good night, sir.”    

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written fic in years, and these two nerds are seriously taking over my life. This is crazy, and I just met them, but here's my [tumblr](http://thesongwithin.tumblr.com), follow me maybe? (I might take prompts?)


End file.
